03 


OS 
"2 

I 

03 

u 


2 
u- 


UD 
C/D 

I 


< 
Q 


MISCELLANY— NO.  I. 


MISCELLANEOUS    COLLECTION 


OP 


POEMS  AND  PIECES, 


DESIGNED  FOR  THE  USE  OF 


FIRST  DAY  SCHOOL  LIBRARIES. 


PRINTED   FOE  JOSIAH   JONES,  SOUTH   CHINA,  ME. 


AUGUSTA; 

RUSSELL     EATON,     PBIXTER 


MISCELLANEOUS  COLLECTION, 


ADDRESS  TO  CHILDREN  AND  YOUTH. 

DEAR  CHILDREN  : — Although  you  have  not 
lived  long  in  the  world,  you  may  have  seen 
enough  to  convince  you  that  this  world  is  not  a 
long  continued  home  for  us.  Occurrences  take 
place  almost  claily,  which  show  that  time  with  us 
is  very  uncertain  ;  the  young  as  well  as  old  are 
visited  by  death,  and  called  to  their  everlasting 
home.  An  endless  eternity  is  before  us,  into 
which  we  must  all  go,  sooner  or  later.  It  there- 
fore becomes  you  to  enquire  into  your  condition 
and  accountability,  in  reference  to  your  present 
and  eternal  welfare.  Even  in  this  life,  the 
righteous  have  great  advantage  beyond  the  wick- 
ed in  substantial  enjoyment. 

The  Holy  Scriptures  contain  an  invaluable 
store  of  knowledge  and  instruction,  about  what 
relates  to  this  life  and  that  to  come.  Let  me 
entreat  you  therefore  to  give  up  your  minds  to  a 
serious  perusal  and  patient  examination  of  these- 
inspired  writings ;  if  you  do  so  in  sincerity,  you 
may  hope  for  the  help  of  the  Spirit  of  Truth,  to 
enable  you  to  understand'  to  profit. 

A  faw  plain  yet  very  important  matters,  you 


may  always  bear  in  mind  ;  no  sinner  can  go  to 
heaven  in  his  sins ;  nothing  impure  or  denied  is 
admitted  into  that  holy  and  happy  place ;  you 
must  be  converted,  or  you  cannot  be  saved. 
The  terms  of  salvation  are  to  believe  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  to  repent  of  your  sins,  and 
forsake  them ;  and  follow  Him,  by  the  help  of 
his  grace,  to  do  his  will. 

Submit  yourselves  in  kindness  and  seriousness 
to  your  parents  and  teachers ;  observing  their 
desires  concerning  you ;  shrink  not  "from  the 
necessary  Christian  discipline,  in  words  and  con- 
duct ;  and  you*  will  assuredly  feel  yourselves 
more  than  rewarded  for  all  the  self-denial  you 
may  be  called  upon,  by  the  restraining  spirit  of 
the  love  of  Christ,  to  undergo. 


THOUGHTS  ON  RETIRING  TO  REST. 


It  is  good,  when  we  lay  on  the  pillow  our  head 
And  the  silence  of  night  all  around  us  is  spread, 
To  reflect  on  the  deeds  we  have  done  thro'  the  day, 
Nor  allow  it  to  pass  without  profit  away. 

A  day — what  a  trifle  ! — and  yet  the  amount 

Of  the  days  we  have  passed  form  an  awful  account ; 

And  the  time  may  arrive  when  the  world  we  would 

give, 
Were  it  ours?  might  we  have  but  another  to  live. 


In  whose  service  have  we  through  the  day  been 

employed  1 

And  what  are  the  pleasures  we  mostly  enjoyed  ? 
Our  desires,  and  our  wishes — to  what  did  they  tend  ? 
To  the  world  we  are  in,  or  the  world  without  end? 

Hath  the  sense  of  His  presence  encompassed  us 

round, 

Without  whom  not  a  sparrow  can  fall  to  the  ground  ? 
Have  our  hearts  turned  to  him  with  devotion  most 

true, 
Or  been  occupied  only  with  things  that  we  view  ? 

Have  we  often  reflected  how  soon  we  must  go, 
To  the  mansions  of  bliss,  or  the  regions  of  woe? 
Have  we  felt  unto  God  a  repentance  sincere, 
And  in  faith  to  the  Savior  of  sinners  drawn  near? 

Let  us  thus  with  ourselves  solemn  conference  hold, 
Ere  sleep's  silent  fetters  our  senses  enfold, 
And  forgiveness  implore  for  the  sins  of  the  day, 
Nor  allow  them  to  pass  unrepented  away. 


THE  WISH  AND  THE  PRAYER. 

BY  ELLWOOD. 


0  that  mine  eye  might  closed  be, 
To  what  becomes  me  not  to  see  ; 
That  deafness  might  possess  mine  ear, 
To  what  concerns  me  not  to  hear  ; 
That  truth  my  tongue  might  always  tie, 
From  ever  speaking  foolishly  ! 


That  no  vain  thought  might  ever  rest, 

Or  be  conceived  within  my  breast ; 

That  by  each  word,  each  deed,  each  thought, 

Glory  may  to  my  God  be  brought ; 

But  what  are  wishes?     Lord,  mine  eye 

On  Thee  is  fixed  ;  to  Thee  I  cry.^ 

O,  purge  out  all  my  dross,  my  sin, 

Make  me  more  white  than  snow  within ; 

Wash,  Lord,  and  purify  my  heart, 

And  make  it  clean  in  every  part ; 

And  when  'tis  clean,  Lord,  keep  it  so, 

For  that  is  more  than  I  can  do. 


LOVE  EACH  OTHER. 

Little  children — love  each  other, 

Is  the  blessed  Savior's  rule  ; 
Every  little  boy  is  brother 

To  his  playfellow  at  school. 

We're  all  children  of  one  Father ; 

The  great  God  who  reigns  above. 
Shall  we  quarrel?     No,  much  rather 

We  would  be  like  Him — all  Love. 

He  has  placed  us  here  together, 
That  we  may  be  good  and  kind. 

He  is  ever  watching,  whether 
We  are  one  in  heart  and  mind. 

Who  is  stronger  than  the  other  ? 

Lefr  him  be  the  weak  one's  friend. 
Who's  more  playthings  than  his  brother? 

He'll  delight  to  give  and  lend. 


Selfish  children's  sad  behavior, 
Shows  they  love  themselves  alone  ? 

But  the  children  of  the  Savior, 
Will  not  call  the  best  their  own. 

All  they  have  they  share  with  others 
Give  kind  looks  and  gentle  words ; 

Thus  they  live  like  happy  brothers, 
And  are  known  to  be  the  Lord's. 


IF  I  HAVE  BREED. 


BY  D.    C,    COLESWORTHY. 


Come  not  to  me,  if  I  have  erred, 

While  passion  burns  upon  thy  cheek, 

Who  with  his  bitter  feelings  stirred, 
Can  pleasant  words  of  kindness  speak  ? 

If  thou  canst  feel  the  wrong  I've  done, 
And  wish  in  penitence  to  bring, 

To  truth  and  duty,  Folly's  son, 

From  kindness  let  thy  actions  spring. 

Speak  kindly  and  thy  voice  will  fall 
Like  music  melting  on  the  soul, 

And  every  error  I'll  recall, 
And  yield  no  more  to  sin's  control. 

Yes,  kindly  speak — such  words  have  power, 
When  falling  from  the  lips  of  love, 

To  save  in  strong  Temptation's  hour, 
And  turn  the  serpent  to  a  dove. 


8 


Forget  not  then  thy  duty,  thou 
Who  hast  a  brother  gone  astray, 

And  sunshine,  beaming  from  thy  brow? 
Will  light  his  steps  in  Virtue's  way. 


•'SPIRITUAL  RAILWAY." 


Lines  written  by  Mungwndaus,  an  Indian  chief,  ID 
his  52d  year. 

The  line  to  heaven  by  Christ  was  made, 
With  heavenly  Truth  the  rails  are  laid  ; 
From  earth  to  heaven  the  line  extends, 
To  life  eternal  where  it  ends. 

Repentance  is  the  station  then, 
Where  passengers  are  taken  in, 
No  fee  for  them  is  there  to  payf 
For  Jesus  is  himself  the  way. 

The  Bible  then  is  engineer  ;* 
It  points  the  way  to  Heaven  so  clear  ; 
Through  tunnels  dark  and  dreary  here, 
It  does  the  way  to  glory  steer. 

God's  Love  the  fire,  His  Truth  the  steam, 
Which  drives  the  engine  and  the  train  ; 
All  you  who  would  to  glory  ride, 
Must  come  to  Christ,  rn  Him  abide. 

In  first,  and  second,  and  third  class, 
Hepentance,  Faith  and  Holiness, 

*  Though  the  Bible  is  profitable  for  reproof,  instmotioo 
Ac.,  yet  it  cannot  properly  bo  styled  an  active  agent. 


9 


You  must  the  way  to  glory  gain. 
Or  you  with  Christ  can  never  reign. 

Come  then  poor  sinners,  now's  the  time, 
At  any  place  along  the  line ; 
If  you  repent  and  turn  from  sin, 
The  train  will  stop  and  take  you  in. 


MAXIMS  AND  SENTIMENTS. 

Diligence,  industry,  and  proper  improvement 
of  time,  are  material  duties  of  the  young. 

From  our  eagerness  to  grasp,  we  strangle  and 
destroy  pleasure. 

From  ill  air  we  take  diseases ;  from  ill  com- 
pany vices,  and  imperfections. 

Speak  always  according  to  your  conscience ; 
but  let  it  be  done  in  terms  of  good  nature,  civili- 
ty, and  good  manners. 

In  your  conversation  be  cautious  what  you 
speak,  and  to  whom  you  speak,  how  you  speak, 
and  when  you  speak. 

Among  all  our  corrnpt  passions,  there  is  a 
strong  and  intimate  connection.  When  any  one 
of  them  is  adopted  into  our  family,  it  seldom 
quits  us  until  it  has  fathered  upon  us  all  its 
kindred. 

Men  of  the  noblest  dispositions,  think  them- 
selves happiest,  when  others  share  with  them  in 
their  happiness. 

There  are  many  persons  who  live  without  any 


10 


design  at  all,  and  only  pass  in  the  world  like 
straws  upon  a  river;  they  do  not  go  but  are 
carried. 

Man  is  formed  for  activity ;  upon  this  depends 
the  health  of  the  soul  and  the  body.  All  the 
train  of  virtues  that  should  adorn  the  human 
character,  require  activity. 

Indolence  frustrates  every  design  of  our  ex- 
istence. 

We  are  all  surrounded  and  beset  with  evils  ; 
and  as  they  cannot  be  avoided  the  mind  ought  to 
be  prepared  to  encounter  them. 

'Tis  a  fair  step  towards  virtue  and  happiness, 
to  delight  in  the  society  of  the  good  and  wise ; 
and  if  those  cannot  be  met  with,  the  next  point 
is  to  keep  no  company  at  all. 

No  person  who  has  once  yielded  up  the  govern- 
ment of  his  mind,  and  given  loose  reins  to  his 
desires  and  passions,  can  tell  how  far  these  may 
carry  him. 

It  costs  us  more  to  be  miserable  than  would 
make  us  perfectly  happy.  How  cheap  and  easy 
is  the  service  of  virtue ;  and  how  dear  do  we 
pay  for  our  vices. 

Anger  may  glance  into  the  bosom  of  a  wise 
man,  but  it  rests  only  in  the  bosom  of  fools. 

It  costs  more  to  revenge  injuries  than  to  bear 
them. 

When  you  see  the  anger  of  a  friend  begin  to 
kindle,  if  you  would  do  good,  throw  water  there* 
on  to  cool,  not  wood  to  inflame. 


11 


No  trees  bear  fruit  in  autumn,  unless  they 
blossom  in  the  spring.  To  the  end  that  our  age 
may  be  profitable  and  laden  with  fruit,  let  us  all 
endeavor  that  our  youth  may  be  studious,  and 
flowered  with  the  blossoms  of  learning  and  ob- 
servation. 


FAREWELL. 


TO  THE  CASTLES  IN  THE  AIR. 

Farewell,  to  my  Castles  rais'd  so  high  ; 

Farewell,  ye  bowers  of  beauty  ; 
From  your  enchantment  I  must  fly 

To  sober  paths  of  duty. 

0  many  an  hour  I  could  employ, 
These  lovely  bowers  adorning, 

Till  every  airy  hall  of  joy 

Should  seem  a  star  of  morning. 

But  go,  vain  dreams,  depart, 
Though  fondly  lov'd  ;  I  feel  it, 

That,  while  you  soothe  the  heart, 
From  better  things  you  steal  it. 

When  rose  the  storm  of  grief  and  care, 
Of  life's  uncertain  billow, 

1  sought  my  Castles  in  the  Air, 

And  found  a  ready  pillow  : 
Here  joys  to  come  were  always  shown, 

The  present  grief  dispelling, 
For  future  woe  is  all  unknown 

In  my  aerial  dwelling. 


12 

The  lesson  thus  was  lost, 

For  which  the  storm  was  given, 

To  show  the  tempest-tost 
A  refuge  sure  in  Heaven. 

Here  Hope,  tho'  cheated  o'er  and  o'er* 

I  thought  would  dwell  securest, 
And  deem'd,  of  all  her  various  store, 

Such  gift  the  best  and  surest. 
While  Fancy  strove  with  magic  glass 

To  raise  the  scene  ideal, 
Still  whisper'd  Hope,  tho'  this  may  pass, 

The  next  will  sure  be  real. 
Thus  many  a  darling  theme 

Was  forming  and  undoing, 
And  still  some  brighter  dream 

Arose  upon  their  ruin. 

Thus,  in  the  fields  of  wild  romance, 

I  tarried  for  a  season, 
But,  still,  at  every  change  and  chance, 

I  heard  the  voice  of  Reason  ; 
"Oh,  at  some  holier,  happier  shrine, 

Devote  thy  thoughts  so  ranging — 
Whose  base  is  truth  and  love  divine, 

The  fabric  never  changing. 
Thy  hopes  from  youth  to  age, 

If  thou  wilt  hither  guide  them, 
Tho'  tempests  rise  and  rage, 

Securely  may  abide  them." 

I  rais'd  my  eyes  from  all  beneath, 
And  Hope  stood  in  the  portal, 

She  held  an  amaranthine  wreath, 
And  promis'd  life  immortal. 


13 


I  felt  the  scene  before  my  view 

Was  more  than  idle  seeming, 
And  wish  and  strive  to  bid  adieu 

To  all  my  days  of  dreaming. 
Then  go,  vain  dreams,  depart, 

Though  fondly  lov'd  I  feel  it, 
That,  while  you  soothe  the  heart, 

From  better  things  you  steal  it.         A.  C. 


THE  LIFE  CLOCK. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN. 

There  is  a  little  mystic  clock, 

No  human  eye  hath  seen  : 
That  beateth  on— and  beateth  on, 

From  morning  unto  e'en. 

And  when  the  soul  is  wrapped  in  sleep, 

And  heareth  not  a  sound, 
It  ticks  and  ticks  the  live-long  night, 

And  never  runneth  down. 

0  wondrous  is  the  work  of  art, 
Which  knells  the  passing  hour ; 

But  art  ne'er  formed,  nor  mind  conceived, 
The  life-clock's  magic  power. 

Nor  set  in  gold,  nor  decked  with  gems, 
By  pride  and  wealth  possessed  : 

But  rich  or  poor,  or  high  or  low, 
Each  bears  it  in  his  breast. 


14 


When  life's  deep  stream,  'mid  beds  of  flowers, 

All  still  and  softly  glides, 
Like  a  wavelet's  stop,  with  gentle  beat, 

It  warns  of  passing  tides. 

When  passion  nerves  the  warrior's  arm, 

For  deeds  of  hate  and  wrong, 
Though  heeded  not  the  fearful  sound, 

The  knell  is  deep  and  strong. 

When  eyes  to  eyes  are  gazing  soft, 

And  tender  words  are  spoken, 
Then  fast  and  wild  it  rattles  on, 

As  if  with  love  'twere  broken. 

Such  is  the  clock  that  measures  life, 

Of  flesh  and  spirit  blended, 
And  thus  'twill  run  within  the  breast, 

Till  that  strange  life  is  ended. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  LITTLE  NEGRO. 

BY   SUSAN    FISHER. 

The  nobility  of  Portugal,  when  following  their 
king  to  the  Brazils,  rendezvoused  for  some  days 
at  Plymouth,  (Eng.)  A  captain  took  lodgings 
at  Plymouth,  and  had  to  attend  him  two  little 
negro  slaves,  to  whom  he  was  in  the  habit  of  be- 
having in  the  most  cruel  manner,  frequently 
stripping  them,  and  scratching  their  backs  very 
severely  with  the  point  of  a  penknife.  The 
landlord,  compassionating  the  poor  boys,  pro- 


15 

tected  them  from  his  brutality  so  long  as  they  re- 
mained at  his  house.  The  fleet  being  ready  to 
sail,  the  captain  with  his  victims  went  on  board ; 
but  at  night  the  little  negroes  succeeded  in  mak- 
ing their  escape  to  the  shore,  and  hid  themselves 
in  a  barn.  Handbills  were  circulated,  and  large 
rewards  offered  for  their  apprehension  ;  but  noth- 
ing was  heard  of  them  until,  one  night,  the  land- 
lord of  the  house  where  they  formerly  lodged  was 
surprised  with  a  visit  from  one  of  them,  who  pre- 
sented himself  before  him,  trembling,  naked  and 
nearly  famished.  He  administered  to  their  wants, 
and  made  them  continue  in  their  hiding  place. 
A  man  going  into  the  barn,  discovered  them ; 
but  confused  by  their  sudden  appearance,  he  suf- 
fered them  to  go  to  the  landlord's,  who  refused  to 
give  them  up.  Their  master  appealed  to  the 
magistrates,  who  appointed  a  day  for  a  hearing. 
The  landlord  went  to  the  court,  with  his  proteges 
clinging  around  him ;  and  the  result  was,  their 
informing  the  captain  that  his  title  to  the  slaves 
was  forfeited ;  for  by  the  laws  of  England,  the 
moment  a  slave  treads  the  British  shore,  he  is 
free. 

The  boys  afterwards  became  a  part  of  the  es- 
tablishment of  the  Earl  of  Mount  Edgecombe ; 
but  they  always  retained  the  greatest  affection  for 
their  generous  protector,  whom  they  used  to 
style  "  father."  Some  time  afterwards,  the  land- 
lord died,  and  the  boys  attended  his  funeral.  From 
that  period  the  youngest,  whose  name  was  Charles, 


16 

was  observed  to  droop  ;  and  though  every  thing 
was  done  to  cheer  him,  it  was  of  no  avail.  "  My 
poor  father  dead  !"  the  poor  child  used  to  say, 
"  me  die  too ;"  and  in  a  short  time,  he  died  of  a 


broken  heart ! 


Peace  to  thee,  little  stranger  ! 

The  storms  of  life  are  o'er  ; 
Here  rest  secure  from  danger, 

On  Britain's  sacred  shore. 
Yes,  thou  shalt  make  thy  pillow 

Where  lie  the  brave  and  free  ; 
Thy  master  o'er  the  billow 

Is  not  so  blest  as  thee. 

Thou  didst  not  die  reclining 

Upon  thy  mother's  breast ; 
Another  sun  is  shining, 

Where  thou  art  doom'd  to  rest  ;—- 
Yet  hearts  of  noblest  feeling 

Shall  mourn  thy  long  last  sleep, 
And  softest  eyes  be  stealing 

To  bless  thy  grave  and  weep. 

Thine  was  the  child-like  spirit 

Which  ever  dwells  above  ; 
There,  through  the  Saviour's  merit, 

Begin  the  song  of  love  ! 
The  first-born  sons  of  heaven 

Will  not  despise  thy  hue  ; 
Their  mind  to  thee  was  given, 

So  tender  and  so  true. 

I  will  not  pray  that,  hated 
By  every  wretched  slave, 


17 

The  tyrant  may  be  fated 
To  perish  in  the  wave  ; — 

But  I  will  ask  imploring, 
When  I  this  life  resign, 

My  spirit  may  be  soaring 
With  souls  as  fair  as  thine. 


TRUTH  TO  THE  DYING. 


From  Dr.  Whitbridge's  address  to  the  last  graduating 
class  in  the  Medical  College  of  South  Carolina. 


It  is  but  too  common  for  gentlemen  of  our 
profession  to  think  and  to  feel,  that  in  respect  to 
patients,  so  far  as  their  diseases  are  concerned, 
they  are  not  bound  by  the  obligation  of  truth, 
but  that  it  is  always  necessary  to  encourage  and 
to  flatter  them,  to  effect  their  recovery  or  pro- 
long their  life.  This  is  an  erroneous  opinion, 
and  one  that  I  am  extremely  desirous  should  be 
corrected.  I  have  seen  patients  encouraged, 
flattered  and  deceived  by  their  friends  and  phy- 
sicians, until  they  were  absolutely  cheated  out  of 
life,  and  who  knows  but  cheated  too  out  of  their 
soul's  salvation  ?  What,  tell  a  lie  to  a  sick 
man  ?  It  is  bad  enough  to  deceive  in  any  case, 
but  to  tell  a  lie  to  a  sick  and  dying  man,  and 
thus  divert  his  mind  from  sacred  things,  de- 
prive him  of  the  use  of  precious  time — time 
which  may  perhaps  be  to  him  of  infinite  im- 
portance— is  unpardonable.  Although  I  have 


18 

no  great  faith  or  confidence  in  the  efficacy  of  a 
deathbed  repentance — believing  that  a  man's 
hope  for  the  future  depends  upon  the  manner  in 
which  he  lives  rather  than  that  in  which  he  dies 
— yet,  I  dare  not  take  upon  me  the  responsibility 
of  deceiving  him — nor  is  there  any  necessity  for 
it,  or  even  of  concealment :  so  far  from  it,  that 
I  have  generally  found  a  frank  and  free  com- 
munication to  my  patients  attended  with  proper 
results.  Unconscious  as  they  often  are  of  their 
situation,  I  have  frequently  given  them  the  first 
intimation  of  their  danger,  and  in  many  instances 
have  been  the  humble  instrument  of  awakening 
them  to  a  sense  of  their  moral  condition.  It 
has  been  my  happiness  on  such  occasions  to  wit- 
ness the  gratification  which  patients  on  their 
deathbed  have  evinced  on  receiving  information, 
which  is  usually  regarded  not  only  as  impolite,  but 
unwelcome,  and  their  thankfulness  has  ever  been 
manifested  by  the  effusions  of  a  grateful  heart. 
Instead  of  alarming  them,  as  is  generally  ap- 
prehended, it  inspires  them  with  hope  and  confi- 
dence in  their  physician — hope  in  the  efficacy  of 
his  remedies — trust  and  confidence  in  God  ! 


CECIL. 

Previous  to  his  conversion,  Cecil,  one  night 
lying  in  bed,  was  contemplating  the  case  of 
his  mother.  "I  see,"  said  he,  within  himself, 


19 

"two  unquestionable  facts :  First)  my  mother  is 
greatly  afflicted  in  circumstances,  body,  and 
mind ;  and  yet  I  see  that  she  cheerfully  bears 
up  under  all,  by  the  support  she  derives  from 
constantly  retiring  to  her  closet  and  her  Bible. 
Secondly,  that  she  has  a  secret  spring  of  com- 
fort, of  which  I  know  nothing ;  while  I,  who 
give  an  unbounded  loose  to  my  appetites,  and 
seek  pleasure  by  every  means,  seldom  or  never 
find  it.  If,  however,  there  is  any  such  comfort 
in  religion,  why  may  not  I  attain  it  as  well  as 
my  mother?  I  will  immediately  seek  it  of 
God."  He  instantly  rose  in  his  bed,  and  began 
to  pray.  But  he  was  soon  damped  in  his  at- 
tempt, by  recollecting  that  much  of  his  mother's 
comfort  seemed  to  arise  from  her  faith  in  Christ. 
"Now,"  thought  he,  "this  Christ  I  have  ridiculed. 
He  stands  much  in  my  way,  and  can  form  no 
part  of  my  prayers."  In  utter  confusion  of 
mind,  therefore,  he  lay  down  again.  Next  day, 
however,  he  continued  to  pray  to  the  "Supreme 
Being,"  and  began  to  consult  books,  and  to  at- 
tend preachers.  His  difficulties  were  gradually 
removed,  and  his  objections  answered,  and  his 
course  of  life  began  to  amend.  He  now  listened 
to  the  pious  admonitions  of  his  mother,  which  he 
had  before  affected  to  receive  with  pride  and 
scorn ;  yet  they  fixed  themselves  in  his  heart 
like  a  barbed  arrow :  and,  though  the  effects 
were  at  the  time  concealed  from  her  observation, 
yet  the  tears  would  fall  from  his  eyes  as  he 


20 

passed  along  the  streets,  from  the  impression  she 
liad  left  on  his  mind.  Now  he  would  discourse 
with  her,  and  hear  her  without  outrage ;  which 
led  her  to  hope  that  a  gracious  principle  was 
forming  in  his  heart,  and  more  especially  as  he 
then  attended  the  preaching  of  the  word.  Thus 
he  made  some  progress ;  but  felt  no  small  diffi- 
culty in  separating  from  his  favorite  connections. 
Light,  however,  broke  into  his  mind,  till  he 
gradually  discovered  that  Jesus  Christ,  so  far 
from  "standing  in  his  way,"  was  the  only  "way, 
the  truth  and  the  life,"  to  all  that  come  unto 
God  by  him. 


THE  DEATH  OF  SUMMER. 

BY  AGNES  STRICKLAND. 

By  the  lengthening  twilight  hours, 
By  the  chill  and  frequent  showers, 
By  the  tiow'rets  pale  and  faded, 
By  the  leaves  with  russet  shaded, 
By  the  gray  and  clouded  morn, 
By  the  drooping  ears  of  corn, 
Ripened  now,  and  earthward  tending, 
As  man,  when  full  of  years,  is  bending 
Towards  his  kindred  dust,  where  he 
Lowly  soon  shall  withering  be  ; 
By  the  harvest  moon's  long  light, 
Shedding  splendor  on  the  night ; 
By  the  silence  of  each  grove, 
Vocal  late  with  notes  of  love  ; 


By  the  meadows  overspread 
With  the  spider's  wavy  thread ; 
By  the  soft  and  shadowy  sky, 
By  the  thousand  tears  that  lie 
Every  weeping  bough  beneath; 
Summer !  we  perceive  thy  death  1 

Summer  !  all  thy  charms  are  past ; 
Summer  !  thou  art  waning  fast ; 
Scarcely  one  of  all  thy  roses 
On  thy  faded  brow  reposes. 
Day  by  day,  more  feebly  shining, 
Sees  thy  glorious  beams  declining ; 
Though  thy  wan  and  eickly  smile 
Faintly  lingers  yet  awhile. 
Thrush  and  nightingale  have  long 
Ceased  to  woo  thee  with  their  song; 
Cuckoo's  notes  are  heard  no  more, 
From  the  hill  or  wooded  shore; 
And  on  every  lonely  height 
Swallows  gather  for  their  flight ; 
Streams  that,  in  their  sparkling  course, 
Rippling  flowed,  are  dark  and  hoarse; 
While  the  gale's  inconstant  tone, 
Sweeping  through  the  valleys  lone, 
Sadly  sighs,  with  mournful  breath, 
Requiems  for  sweet  Summer's  death ! 


THE  BLIND  AND   DEAF  SCHOLAR. 

Some  time  ago,  while  attending  an  eminent 
Burgeon,  for  the  purpose  of  having  an  operation 
performed  on  one  of  my  eyes,  a  friend  of  mine 


22 

led  into  the  same  room  a  young  woman,  who 
was  completely  blind  and  deaf.  This  sad  con- 
dition had  been  brought  on  suddenly  by  a  violent 
pain  in  the  head.  Her  case  was  examined  by  a 
number  of  surgeons  then  present,  all  of  whom 
pronounced  it  incurable.  She  was  led  back  to 
the  house  of  my  friend,  when  she  eagerly  enquir- 
ed what  the  doctor  said  about  her  case,  and 
whether  he  could  afford  her  any  relief.  The 
only  method  by  which  her  enquiries  could  be 
answered  was,  by  tapping  her  hand,  which  signi- 
fied No ;  and  by  squeezing  it,  which  signified 
Yes ;  for  she  could  not  hear  the  loudest  noise, 
nor  distinguish  day  from  night.  She  had  to 
receive  for  her  answer  on  this  occasion,  the  un- 
welcome No,  She  burst  into  tears,  and  wept 
aloud  in  all  the  bitterness  of  despair.  "What," 
said  she,  "shall  I  never  again  see  the  light  of 
day,  nor  hear  a  human  voice  ?  Must  I  remain 
incapable  of  all  social  intercourse — shut  up  in 
silence  and  darkness  while  I  live  ?"  Again  she 
wept.  The  scene  was  truly  affecting.  Had  she 
been  able  to  see,  she  might  have  been  pointed  to 
the  Bible  as  a  source  of  comfort.  Had  she  been 
able  to  hear,  words  of  consolation  might  have 
been  spoken ;  but  alas !  these  avenues  to  the 
mind  were  closed,  to  be  opened  no  more  in  this 
world.  Her  friends  could  pity,  but  they  could 
not  relieve :  and  what  made  her  case  still  mo-re 
deplorable,  she  was  an  orphan ;  had  no  father 
or  mother,  or  brother  or  sister  to  pity  and  care 


23 

for  her.  She  was  entirely  dependent  on  a  few 
pious  friends  for  her  support.  This  she  felt, — 
and  continued  to  weep,  till  my  friend  took  up. 
the  Bible,  and  placed  it  to  her  breast.  She  felt 
it,  and  said,  "  Is  this  the  Bible  ?"  She  was 
answered  that  it  was.  She  held  it  to  her  bosom, 
and  said,  "  This  is  the  only  comfort  I  have  left : 
though  I  shall  never  be  able  to  read  it  any  more," 
and  began  to  repeat  some  of  its  promises  :  such 
as,  "  Cast  thy  burden  on  the  Lord,  and  he  will 
sustain  thee."  "  As  thy  day,  so  shall  thy  strength 
be."  "  Call  upon  me  in  the  day  of  trouble,  and 
I  will  deliver  thee."  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  for 
thee,''  &c.  &c.  In  a  moment  she  dried  her 
tears,  and  never  seemed  to  deplore  her  condition 
afterward.  I  have  many  times  heard  her  tell 
of  the  strong  consolations  she  felt.  She  appeared 
to  enjoy  uninterrupted  communion  with  the 
Father  of  spirits. 

Happily  for  this  young  woman,  she  had  been 
taken,  when  a  very  little  girl,  to  a  methodist 
Sabbath-school,  where  she  enjoyed  the  only  op- 
portunity she  ever  had  of  learning  to  read  the 
Bible,  and  where  she  had  committed  to  memory 
those  passages  of  Scripture  which  now  became 
her  solace  and  the  food  of  her  spirit.  With  what 
gratitude  she  used  to  speak  of  her  teachers,  who, 
she  said,  not  only  taught  her  to  read,  but  took 
pains  to  instruct  her  in  the  things  that  belonged 
to  her  eternal  peace !  "  What  would  have  be- 
come of  me  had  I  not  then  been  taught  the  way 


24 

of  salvation  ?  for  now  I  am  deprived  of  all  out- 
ward means;"  was  her  constant  language. 


From  the  pen  of  a  young  woman  of  Philadelphia, 
after  attending  an  evening  meeting. 

Thou  just  and  Holy  One  ! 

From  thy  all  glorious  throne 
Be  pleased  thy  little  flock  on  earth  to  bless  ! 

Their  spirits  deign  to  move 

With  thy  inspiring  love, 
And  on  their  hearts  anew  thy  grace  impress. 

That  they  a  chosen  band, 

Led  by  thy  gracious  hand, 
May  onward  move,  and  find  their  pathway  rife 

With  gentle  streams  of  peace ; 

The  fruits  of  an  increase 
Of  faith  in  thy  dear  Son — the  word  of  life. 

Father!  thy  will  be  done  ! 

But  not  for  those  alone 
Who,  through  repentance,  have  forgiveness  found, 

I  now  pour  forth  my  prayer  ; 

May  they  thy  mercy  share 
Who  yet  in  fruitless  works  alone  abound. 

Oh  !  from  each  fettered  heart, 

Bid  unbelief  depart, 
Nor  longer  in  its  coils  involve  the  mind, 

Whose  noble  powers  were  given 

To  soar  from  earth  to  heaven, 
Leaving  the  world's  deceiving  joys  behind. 


25 


Teach  them,  thou  Great  Supreme, 

That  clouds  will  intervene, 
Whilst  sin  exists  e'en  between  them  and  thee  ; 

The  will  must  be  resigned, 

Before  that  peace  they'll  find, 
Which  pure  and  steadfast  is — and  heavenly. 

To  Thee  the  tri-une  Lord, 

Worthy  to  be  adored, 
From  grateful  hearts  may  praise  re-echoing  ring  ; 

Till  earth's  remotest  bound, 

Shall  swell  the  joyful  sound, 
And  purest  incense  to  thy  glory  bring. 


THE  WORLD  WE  HAVE  NOT  SEEN. 

There  is  a  world  we  have  not  seen, 
That  time  shall  never  dare  destroy  : 

Where  mortal  footsteps  have  not  been, 
Nor  ear  hath  caught  its  sound  of  joy. 

There  is  a  region,  lovelier  far 
Than  sages  tell  or  poets  sing, 

Brighter  than  summer's  beauties  are, 
And  softer  than  the  tints  oi  spring. 

There  is  a  world,  and  oh  how  blest ! 

Fairer  than  prophets  ever  told  ; 
And  never  did  an  angel  guest 

One  half  its  blessedness  unfold. 

It  is  all  holy  and  serene, 
The  land  of  glory  and  repose  ; 


26 

And  there,  to  dim  the  radiant  scene, 
The  tear  of  sorrow  never  flows. 

It  is  not  fanned  by  summer  gale, 

'Tis  not  refreshed  by  vernal  showers : 

It  never  needs  the  moon-beam  pale, 
For  there  are  known  no  evening  hours. 

No  :  for  this  world  is  ever  bright, 

With  a  radiance  all  its  own  : 
The  streams  of  uncreated  light 

Flow  round  it  from  the  eternal  throne. 

There  forms  that  mortal  may  not  see, 
Too  glorious'  for  the  eye  to  trace, 

And  clad  in  peerless  majesty, 
Move  with  unutterable  grace. 

In  vain  the  philosophic  eve 

May  seek  to  view  the  fair  abode, 

Or  find  it  in  the  curtained  sky  : 

It  is  the  dwelling  place  of  God ! 


THE  SOUL'S  TRUST. 

"  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  0  my  soul,  and  why 
art  thou  disquieted  within  me  1  Hope  thou  in  God, 
for  I  shall  yet  praise  him,  who  is  the  health  of  my 
countenance  and  my  God." 

Though  troubles  assail  me,  and  dangers  surround, 
Though  thorns  in  my  pathway  may  ever  be  found, 
Still  let  me  not  fear,  for  Thou  ever  wilt  be 
My  God  and  my  guide  while  I  lean  upon  thee. 


The  sweet  buds  of  promise  may  fade  ere  they  bloom, 
The  hopes  which  are  earthborn,  lie  low  in  the  tomb: 
And  though  my  life's  pathway  seem  weary  to  me, 
I  shall  gather  new  strength  as  I  lean  upon  thee. 

Though  bound  to  the  earth,  by  the  heart's  dearest 

ties, 

Tho'  earth's  fairest  scenes  are  outspread  to  my  eyes; 
Oh  !  never,  my  Father  !  permit  me  to  be 
Found  trusting  in  reeds,  let  me  lean  upon  thee. 

And  in  that  dread  hour  when  my  awed  soul  may  stay 
No  longer  on  earth,  but  is  summon 'd  away  ; 
Amidst  those  great  scenes  which  no  mortal  may  see; 
Let  me  know  naught  of  fear  as  I  lean  upon  thee. 


THE  DIFFERENCE  OF  COLOR. 

God  gave  to  Afric's  sons 

A  brow  of  sable  dye, — 
And  spread  the  country  of  their  birth 

Beneath  a  burning  sky, — 
And  with  a  cheek  of  olive,  made 

The  little  Hindoo  child, 
And  darkly  stained  the  forest  tribes 

That  roam  our  western  wild. 

To  me  he  gave  a  form 

Of  fairer,  whiter  clay, — 
But  am  I,  therefore,  in  his  sight, 

Respected  more  than  they  ? — 
No. — 'Tis  the  hue  of  deeds  and  thoughts 

He  traces  in  his  Book, — 


28 

'Tis  the  complexion  of  the  heart, 
On  which  he  deigns  to  look. 

Not  by  the  tinted  cheek, 

That  fades  away  so  fast, 
But  by  the  color  of  the  soul, 

We  shall  be  judged  at  last. 
And  God,  the  Judge,  will  look  at  me 

With  anger  in  his  eyes, 
If  I,  my  brother's  darker  brow 

Should  ever  dare  despise. — [Sigourney. 


"  THIS  HAND  NEVER  STRUCK  ME." 

We  recently  heard  the  following  most  touch- 
ing incident : — 

A  little  boy  had  died.  His  body  was  laid  out 
in  a  darkened  retired  room,  waiting  to  be  laid 
away  in  the  lone  cold  grave.  His  afflicted  moth- 
er and  bereaved  little  sister  went  to  look  at  the 
sweet  face  of  the  precious  sleeper,  for  his  face 
was  beautiful  even  in  death.  As  they  stood 
gazing  upon  the  form  of  one  so  cherished  and 
beloved,  the  little  girl  asked  to  take  hold  of  his 
hand.  The  mother  at  first  did  not  think  it  best ; 
but  as  her  child  repeated  the  request,  and  seemed 
very  anxious  about  it,  she  took  the  cold  bloodless 
hand  of  the  sleeping  boy,  and  placed  it  in  the 
hand  of  his  weeping  sister. 

The  dear  child  looked  at  it  a  moment,  caressed 
it  fondly,  and  then  looking  up  to  her  mother 


through  tears — the  tears  of  affection  and  love-* 
she  said,  "Mother,  t his  little  haTid  never  struck 
me  /" 

What  could  be  more  touching  and  lovely  ? 

Young  reader,  have  you  always  been  so  gentle 
to  your  brothers  and  sisters,  that,  were  you  to 
die,  such  a  tribute  as  this  could  be  paid  to  your 
memory  ?  Could  a  brother  or  sister  take  your 
hand,  were  it  cold  in  death,  say,  "This  hand 
never  struck  me  ?" 

What  an  alleviation  to  our  grief,  when  we 
part  with  a  friend,  to  be  able  to  remember  only 
words  and  actions  of  mutual  kindness  and  love. 
How  bitter  must  be  the  sorrow,  and  scalding  the 
tears  of  remorse,  of  an  unkind  child,  as  he  looks 
upon  the  cold  form,  or  stands  at  the  grave  of  a 
brother  or  sister,  or  father  or  mother,  towards 
whom  he  had  manifested  unkindness.  Let  us  all 
remember,  that  whatsoever  we  sow  in  this  respect, 
that  we  shall  also  reap. 


"  THAT  IS  A  BOY  I  CAN  TRUST." 

I  once  visited  a  Targe  public  school.  At  re- 
cess, a  little  fellow  came  up  and  spoke  to  the 
master  ;  as  he  turned  to  go  down  the  platform, 
the  master  said,  "  That  is  a  boy  I  can  trust.  He 
never  fails  me."  I  followed  him  with  my  eye, 
and  looked  at  him  when  he  took  his  seat  after 
recess.  He  had  a  fine,  open,  manly  face.  I 


80 


thought  a  good  deal  about  the  master's  remark, 
What  a  character  had  that  little  boy  earned ! 
He  had  already  got  what  would  be  worth  more 
to  him  than  a  fortune.  It  would  be  a  passport 
into  the  best  store  in  the  city,  and,  what  is  bet- 
ter, into  the  confidence  and  respect  of  the  whole 
community. 

I  wonder  if  the  boys  know  how  soon  they  are 
rated  by  older  people.  Every  boy  in  the  neigh- 
borhood is  known,  and  opinions  are  formed  of 
him ;  he  has  a  character,  either  favorable  or 
unfavorable.  A  boy  of  whom  the  master  can 
say,  "  I  can  trust  him ;  he  never  failed  me,"  will 
never  want  employment.  The  fidelity,  prompt- 
ness, and  industry  which  he  shows  at  school  are 
in  demand  everywhere.  He  who  is  faithful  in 
little  will  be  faithful  also  in  much.  Be  sure, 
boys,  that  you  can  earn  a  good  reputation  at 
school.  Remember  that  you  are  just  where  God 
has  placed  you,  and  your  duties  are  not  so  much 
given  you  by  your  teachers  or  your  parents,  as 
by  God  himself.  You  must  render  an  account 
to  them,  and  you  also  will  be  called  to  render  an 
account  to  Him.  Be  trusty — be  true. 


THE  OBJECT  WORTHY  OF  PURSUIT. 

If  now,  in  early  youth,  my  son, 
The  good  thou  choose — the  evil  shun, 
Thou  may'st  a  good  foundation  lay — 
The  comlbrt  of  a  future  day. 


31 


A  faithless  world  may  on  thee  frown, 
And  thou  be  friendless,  left  alone  ; 
For  trouble  is  each  mortal's  lot : 
Then  let  this  truth  be  ne'er  forgot, 
Heav'en,  ever  man's  indulgent  friend, 
Afflicts  but  for  a  gracious  end. 
Let  the  ambitious  seek  to  rise 
His  babel  structures  to  the  skies  ; 
Let  worldlings  after  shadows  press  ; 
Be  thine  the  substance  to  possess, 
And  know  what  constitutes  true  bliss. 

Not  he  whom  Fortune's  goods  surround 
With  more  than  needful  plenty  crown'd  ; 
Whose  gainful  projects  meet  success, 
And  swell  his  coffers  with  increase, 
Houses  superb  and  gardens  fair, 
With  nature's  elegancies  rare  ; 
Servants  in  taste  and  equipage, 
The  gazing  populace  to  engage  ; 
Far  fetchM,  his  appetite  to  please, 
The  product  of  earth,  air,  and  seas. 

Not  he  is  rich  ;  but  who,  resign'd, 
Enjoys  a  pious  calm  of  mind. 
And  what  supplies  his  real  need 
Graceful  receives,  is  rich  indeed  ! 
Not  he  who  labors  much  to  know 
Why  mountains  blaze,  seas  ebb  and  flow  ; 
Explores  the  nature  of  each  sphere, 
And  travels  with  the  blazing  star  ; 
Who  deep  inspecting  nature's  womb. 
Imports  rich  funds  of  knowledge  home  ; 
Not  he  who  kens  each  planet's  size  ; 
But  he  who  knows  himself,  is  wise  ! 
Not  he  who  death  defies  in  war, 
Or  fearless  meets  the  wild  hussar  ; 


32 


Whose  breast  with  martial  ardor  burns ; 
The  horse  and  rider  overturns  ; 
In  the  hot  siege  ascends  the  wall, 
And  dauntless  sees  his  fellow  fall;. 
Strong  holds  dismantl'd,  cities  sack'd, 
Provinces  ravag'd,  empires  wreck'd, 
Compose  his  trophies,  swell  his  pride, 
And  bid  his  name  tremendous  stride 
Through  the  wide  range  of  time  and  space, 
While  brass  or  stone  his  form  express  : 
Not  who  those  earth-born  honors  wait ; 
But  who  subdues  himself,  is  great ! 
Thyself  to  know  ;  thyself  to  rule, 
A  science  taught  in  Christ's  free  school, 
This  science,  0  my  son  !  pursue  ; 
Acquaint  thyself  with  him  that's  true, 
And  be  at  peace ;  here  wisdom,  wealth, 
Sweet  pleasure  and. immortal  health  ! 
With  love  that  over  death  prevails, 
And  every  evil  countervails, 
Concenter 'd,  all  supremely  meet 
To  make  thee  Rich,  and  Wise,  and  Great. 


MS 


